Mum..... by definition

I have really been struggling lately. Not "Struggling" struggling, more like grappling, or questioning myself.... and it's all about one little sentence.

You see, I was talking to a friend recently, and she made the comment, "I love my kids, of course, but they don't define who I am"....... and that thought has been playing over in my mind for the last few weeks.

I fancy myself fairly well-balanced... I stay at home with my kids, I run my small business from home, I have a fairly active social life (the kind of social life you expect after kids..... very little alcohol, lots of talking, coffee, barbeques etc), I'm well educated, I can hold an adult conversation whilst a Wiggles song plays in my head...... I'm fairly well rounded, I think.

But this comment has really struck me off guard, and I've figured out why... I was worried that my kids DO define who I am, and in the "I can have my cake and eat it too" world we live in, I thought maybe I'd somehow missed the boat. Should my kids define who I am? I am a whole person without them. I have value as an individual. I'm still me.... right? Should I want more, should I do more, should I BE more?

And then I thought about it.... and you know what? My kids DO define who I am. They define who I am at the very core of my being, and I think that is absolutely wonderful. Yes, I am a whole person without them, but I never want to BE without them...

Don't get me wrong.. sometimes I really want to be without them, I need a break, I'm human, I need a time out, but we're talking half an hour, or a day with a friend, a nice dinner with the girls.

But I never ever want to BE without them. They complete me, if that makes sense..... in the way my husband also completes me. They are part of who I am... so of course they define me. In the same way my beliefs and dreams and hopes and fears define me. Being a wife and mother are the two most important roles in my life.

Do I wonder what life would have been like if I hadn't married and had kids in my twenties? Sometimes...... and it's unimaginable. A wife and mother is who I am . It's who I AM. Nothing I have ever done, or will ever do, will be as important as being a Mum. It is the most exhausting, arduous, frustrating, nerve-wracking, emotional, rewarding, uplifting, exhilerating, fulfilling job in the world.

I consider myself extremely lucky to be blessed with three gorgeous healthy children. Many who would make wonderful parents are not gifted with them easily. I appreciate that. I am thankful for that. Many mothers have to return to work and do not have this precious time at home. Many mothers choose to return to work, and I understand and respect that choice. We live very simply so that I can stay home. That's the choice we made. Sometimes we go without. Sometimes there is not enough. But we get by. I am thankful for that. I watch my children playing, or eating, or sleeping, and I feel such pride and contentment I could burst. I am so thankful for that.

These little people and their Daddy are my family..... they are my everything. Without them, I am a whole person, but I would certainly not be whole. So do my children define me? Absolutely they do. And all is as it should be.

The Jeopardy of Jogging

Getting fit is a dangerous pursuit. Take jogging for example. For me, it's right up there with other extreme sports like rugby... and hockey... games where you risk serious injury every time you take the field. Jogging is dangerous like that.



To counter my comfort food habit, I am trying to form a new habit... so they'll cancel each other out. I have started walking ... four days ago- so in terms of the whole "it takes 21 days to form a habit" thing, this one is in its infancy. But I don't let that stop me from aiming high.



A friend and I both mentioned recently how we'd love to run a marathon (well, 10km mini-marathon, but close enough). My friend, you could conceive- she jogs already- but me, not so much.



For a few years now the 10km run has been on my list of things to do (that ridiculous list of 40 things to do before I'm 40; I kept it quite achievable- run a half marathon, pay off my mortgage, travel Europe, make the perfect black forest cake.... pffft).



So, jogging. Yesterday morning I was walking alone (so far not my favourite pre-dawn activity), giving my shoes a workout,







and I thought 'you know what, I'm going to give this jogging thing a go'. At this point it is worth noting that I have tried jogging before but, like childbirth, it seems to be one of those physically gruelling experiences that my brain periodically deletes from my memory.



It's not settling into a breathing pattern that I struggle with.... Although breathing is tricky after the first about 200 metres.



It's my butt that gets me. My boobs used to too, but I got a special sports bra for that. They don't make butt-bras though, do they? So every time I jog, the impact makes my butt muscle (or whatever fibre connects my butt cheeks to my body) feel like it is going to rip right through.




I have tried jogging more softly, forcefully, slowly, quickly, longer strides, shorter strides... the pain is still there. Not niggling pain either. AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH-what-is-wrong-with-my-body type pain. In that moment after I land, and gravity drags my butt cheeks down with such force while the rest of my body has already started to rise...oooommmmppphhhh.... I can't very well run along supporting my butt cheeks in my hands now can I?



So I did what anyone would do... I googled. And look what ezinearticles.com said:


You may see a person running in the early morning hours around your home and think, "I wish I could do that". However, in reality jogging is a high impact type of exercise which can exacerbate previous health conditions, like deteriorating knee and joints. However, it is important to stay in shape [STAY in shape???... bit late for that]. A great alternative to running and jogging is walking.



Well, if a respected publication like that says jogging is a health risk, who am I to argue?? So I guess I have to walk.... at least until my butt is a bit less marshmallow-y and some of the hail damage smooths out.

Dear Mr Stain Remover (although I question your right to use the word 'remove' in any of its forms),

I have serious issues with your product that you must address immediately.

I have been the perfect little consumer.


I saw your ad.... I watched with sympathy as that silly woman freaked out when she discovered the stain on her husband's shirt.

[Although at this point I really must differentiate myself from her by saying, I iron with my eyes open... so I discover stains when I'm ironing- sometimes before I iron them and set the stain permanently in the fabric, sometimes AFTER- but definitely before my husband has dressed in it and is posing for a family photo]

So, despite her stupidity, I felt for her. I thought, "I need that spray to prevent that happening to me" (although, as we have noted, it wouldn't happen to me quite like that... less interesting television, but far less silly). So, you hooked me. I bought the spray. I used it.

I am most seriously DISpleased with the results. This is my laundry AFTER I did my washing..... 4 items needing to be resprayed.




Now, just to clarify, this second spraying was done with much gusto, and I estimate I used about half the can between the 4 items......... still stained. Vanish? Pffft.


I really must insist you improve this formula, or stop making claims of actually being able to remove MOST stains, and stick to the nasty little stains you can manage... like water.

If this issue is not addressed, I will turn into one of those neurotic mums who doesn't let her kids get dirty. I can't stand those mums.


Thanking you in anticipation of the big bucks you will spend on product improvement as the result of this little note, and thanks also in advance for the free lifetime supply of this improved product that you will give ME as thanks for my help with your product.


Most sincerely,


Dirty Laundress.

Snuggly Slippers... and a muffin-top.

Know why I love Winter? Comfort food. I think I've put on three kilos this Winter already (yes, it is only the seventh day of June). Seriously, you can't beat hearty slow-cooked meals, hot chocolate with melted marshmallows, oozy cheese on toast, hot coffee (several a day, may explain this twitch I have developed). I also love flannelette.... not in a wear-it-to-the-shops kind of way (it belongs in your homes people, not in public), but for pyjamas, and sheets... so snuggly.


And I love being able to wear the slippers my kids got me for Mothers' Day last year...

But as a Mum, do you know the thing about Winter that I love the very best? Tracksuits. They go from the clothesline to the cupboard and wipe out most of my ironing during Winter. If only I didn't look like such a dag in them, I'd wear them every day too. But my tracksuits are kind of exercise-y. I bought them for those brisk early morning walks I planned to take five mornings a week... until I realised just how cold AND DARK it is at 5am every morning of the week. If I wear them during the day, I look like I'm on my way to the gym (because of course I team them with my twelve-month-old-but-look-brand-new Reeboks, bought for those same early morning walks).

Tell me, do you think there is any aerobic benefit to be derived from wearing exercise clothes all day if I don't ACTUALLY do any exercise??? Hmmmm. Should I go to Weight Watchers tonight and kick this comfort food habit, or have a sweet hot chocolate and snuggle on the couch? I'll get back to you...